


The Scarf

by Jabber_Moose



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Death References, Gen, Illnesses, Male Friendship, Mentions of Blood, Pre-Canon, guys this is a RENT fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 23:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabber_Moose/pseuds/Jabber_Moose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The scarf binds their history</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scarf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juxtapose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juxtapose/gifts).



> Written awhile back after I realized they took Mark's scarf out of the off-Broadway revival. I needed to cope with that.

Only two people knew the truth about the scarf.

People could speculate all they want, whether Mark Cohen was a mama's boy, or just someone who got cold easily. Maureen tried to convince their friends at one point that it was from one of her wilder nights with Mark, but as most things Maureen did, that tale never took root.

Mostly, Mark played along with the teasing that his mother had made him the scarf, and wearing it was just his pathetic way of staying close to home.

Nobody needed to know about the night so many years ago that Mark's father left, and Roger Davis opened the door to find his best friend on his doorstep, chilled to the bone, eyes red rimmed behind foggy glasses.

Nobody needed to know about how Roger yanked him inside, made them both hot chocolate with a rebellious helping of brandy from his parents liquor cabinet, and watched old movies until they both fell asleep, Roger's arm thrown protectively over his friend's shoulder.

Nobody needed to know about the story of the scarf that remained tucked against Mark's neck, folded from view, that had stains from the night Mark had come home to his best friend kneeling in the blood of his girlfriend from when Mark had propped Roger up, and wiped the visible scars away.

Nobody needed to know that the scarf, despite how many times it was washed, held the history of Mark and Roger's relationship- blood, sickness, pain, heartache, depression, hope, darkness- wound into its very fibers.

Nobody needed to know why Roger tugged at Mark's scarf after he returned from Santa Fe, playfully winding it around both of them, and why they both stood, laughing quiet and a bit helplessly at some unheard joke.

Nobody needed to know about that scarf the Mark Cohen wears would one day lie in the coffin of a man who would die young, but not as young as some predicted.

But since that day wasn't happen anytime soon, if they could help it, the scarf remains closer to Mark's skin than Roger could ever be, and over his heart where Roger always was.


End file.
